


A Strange Dream

by mcmissiles



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls III: Morrowind
Genre: Developing Friendships, Gen, Nightmares, Past Lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2019-07-24 12:02:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16174679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mcmissiles/pseuds/mcmissiles
Summary: Llarala wakes up panicked and confused. Fortunately, she has a friend to help. Less fortunately, she thinks she might be losing her mind.





	A Strange Dream

_"You had a disturbing dream. You can only recall one point. A tall figure with a golden mask led you among the dead as through a wedding celebration. You heard many voices, but no lips moved. You strained to breathe, but your chest didn't move. The tall figure spoke with each figure as he passed among them, laughing and joking, as if they were alive, but they made no reply. You tried to cry out, but without breath, your tongue fluttered in vain."_

Llarala shot out of the covers with a gasp, gripping the sides of the narrow bed and taking gulp after gulp of cool air until the panic began to subside and breathing felt less like a struggle. Putting a hand to her face, she found it cold and damp with sweat. She ground the heel of her palm into her eye, trying to make sense of what she’d seen even as she willed herself to put it out of her mind. After a moment she remembered the bruise above her eye and winced as her hand ground another wave of pain out of it. She dropped her hand, eyes adjusting to the low light of the Mages’ Guild basement, and steadied her breathing. None of it had been real, she told herself. Just a weird string of images brought on by—

“Is something wrong?”

Llarala yelped at the sudden presence behind her and spun around with her fist raised in blind panic, only to find Ajira’s sympathetic face leaning over her. She caught her breath and sighed, letting out a small, nervous laugh.

“No, no, it’s—it’s nothing. Just a bad dream.”

Ajira’s eyes narrowed and her ears twitched in concern. “A dream?”

“Yes, just—oh. Oh no, nothing like that!” She faked a laugh as she remembered the stories she’d heard. “It’s just stress. You know, I’ve had a rough few days, haven’t had enough sleep, and living in a new place on top of all that—I guess it got kind of overwhelming. I’m fine. I need to go back to sleep. I’m more tired than I was when I got here,” she said, smiling sheepishly.

“Would a drink help? Ajira knows some herbs that make a nice calming tea. No more stress dreams.”

Llarala considered a moment. “That would be nice. Thanks.”

Ajira returned to her desk, leaving Llarala alone with her thoughts again. As much as she’d tried to put the dream out of her mind, the images remained sharp in her memory. Despite herself, she found herself trying to analyze its meaning. Quietly slipping her journal out of her pocket, she jotted down what she remembered—the figure in the golden mask, the throngs of the dead, the still breath in her throat. She was about to write something else when Ajira surprised her once again. She hastily shut her journal and accepted the steaming cup of tea with a quiet “thank you.”

“Would you like to talk about it?” asked Ajira.

“No, I’d honestly rather forget it,” said Llarala. “But thanks.”

“Of course. You are a friend.”

Llarala smiled hesitantly. “Thanks.”

As Ajira padded away, Llarala reopened her journal while she waited for the tea to take effect. She’d already described the dream in as much detail as she could remember. But she’d left out one thought, which was so strange she didn’t want to acknowledge it on paper—that the figure, strange and horrifying as he was, seemed somehow familiar. She had been unable to make out what he’d said, but the quality of his voice… she was certain she’d never met anyone who sounded like him, and yet she was equally certain she’d heard that voice somewhere else. Someone she’d heard in passing? But that couldn’t be it. It felt closer than that. Maybe she was half-remembering some other part of the dream, she thought as her eyelids grew heavy. That would make sense. She could have forgotten pieces but remembered hearing the voice, making it seem more familiar than it was. At any rate, it couldn’t be that important. She chased the thought from her mind as she sank again into a much deeper, dreamless sleep.


End file.
